


Karkat's Guide To Proper BlackRom

by sumomomochi



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumomomochi/pseuds/sumomomochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first rule of Troll Fight Club is : you don't talk about Fight Club.</p>
<p>The second rule of Troll Fight Club is : you don't. Talk. About Fight Club.</p>
<p>And you sure as hell don't let humans join.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Karkat's Guide To Proper BlackRom

_The first rule of Troll Fight Club is : you don't talk about Fight Club._

_The second rule of Troll Fight Club is : you don't. Talk. About Fight Club._

It's Tuesday, almost Wednesday and you thank fuck the bar upstairs only does karaoke on the weekends. You're pretty sure everyone else thanks fuck the bar upstairs only does karaoke on the weekends as well. You are not fully capable of containing the sheer amount of bugfucking HATE that practically seeps out your pores on nights where you have to listen to douchewaffles butchering Alternian classics whilst a catastrophe of balled fists against faces rings out in this shitty little basement. You have enacted a number of sick beatdowns to this sort of soundtrack and it is never even remotely as satisfying.

Tonight is, instead, focused on the club scene and the thumping base does a better job of covering the sound of thirty pissed of trolls beating the shit out of each other. You haven't gone yet, your ribs still tender from last week's showdown, but you're hoping you can step in against the scrawny psionic with the utterly moronic lisp leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. You've seen him fight a couple of times, abusing the fuck out of his brain lasers to throw opponents across the room without even laying a fucking finger on them. Your fists twitch with the need wipe the confidence of his smarmy face and you're half hard with the anticipation.

Terezi, your best friend and sort of flush-crush, would give you such shit for this; you are well aware of how fucked up a way this is to get out black urges, but Terezi can shut her bear trap of a mouth. She's one of the lucky few to manage blackrom without inciting the pitying glances of those who view kismesitude as unhealthy. Those fuckwits can suck your writhing, mutant bulge.

The two going at it in the ring finally kiss and stumble out of the circle, no doubt shuffling off somewhere private for some delicious black solicitations. It's during the scrabble of trying to figure out who's going next when a fucking _human_ waltzes down the stairs like he owns the god damn place, practically glowing with how pale he is. Every troll turns to stare, teeth bared and the bastard doesn't even have the decency to flinch. No, of fucking course not, he just smirks and says, "Sup. Heard this is the place to be if y'wanna break some faces."

The sound of angry chittering breaks over the thrumming bass and he's shoved forward, into the ring. One of the trolls behind you leans in, mouth infuriatingly close to your ear, and tells you, "Go get him, Nubby. Least with you, he ain't gonna get gouged through."

You bristle at the words, stepping forward, but you're well aware of the fact that you're the least likely to seriously injure this brainless twat. You are frustratingly rounded for a troll and you will take it out on this dumbfuck.

You whip off your shirt, your useless, piece of shit gills fluttering at their freedom, and toe off your shoes while the crowd yells at the human to do the same. He does, and the discarded clothing is tucked away where it won't trip anyone. The human smirks at you, his eyes pale as everything else about him and, you think, _pink_. He tucks his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, pitch black against his utterly white skin.

"Aw man," he calls from across the ring, "I was hopin' I'd be paired up with somebody a lil' bigger."

He has an accent, thick and drawling, and you hope it's just an accent and he's not literally retarded.

"And here I was expecting to go up against someone who would actually pose a challenge."

Your words just make him laugh, and he bounces on the balls of his feet as he snaps back, "Sure ya were, darlin'. I may not be in your weight class, but I promise, I'll be more than enough challenge for you."

"Oh my god, did you just call me fat? You just called me fat. Wow, the extent of your human insults is obscenely pitiful. You should be glad your disgusting, maggot white face showing up at an _obviously_ troll only event fills me with enough rage to still want to bash it in."

"Dude, that is so totally uncalled for. I am totes offended. Your casual racism fills me with offended feels, bro. How do you know I don't _identify_ as a troll. Don't belittle my identity, man, 's not cool."

He's still smirking, his little speech said with hardly any inflection. The complete monotone of his voice makes you screech in frustration. He ducks your first swing, but not the knee you aim at his face. He stumbles back a couple of steps, fingers gingerly touching the bridge of his nose. He's no longer smirking, but you are. 

"Had enough then?"

He laughs, spurting blood from his likely busted nose. "Not by a long shot, princess. What, you thought only Alternians dug a good brawl?"

You just barely dance away from the hook he aims at your gut, close enough that you feel his wrist graze against your gills and you begrudgingly admit that he might just be able to keep his own.

"I thought you were trollkin, pasty."

"I'm whatever you want me to be, baby."

He hasn't bothered to wipe the blood from his face, cherry red dripping off his chin, catching in facial hair so pale you didn't even notice it. You don't have your head far enough up your own ass that you can't admit that, okay, he's pretty fucking hot. For a human.

"I want you sobbing and bloody on the floor."

"Hm, naw. Don't think I'm down fer that."

Neither of you are doing much damage with your fists. He's undoubtedly faster than you, but not nearly as strong, so the blows he has managed to land do barely anything. And then his foot comes flying at your face out of fucking nowhere and Jesus _Christ_ , that hurt. You're painfully hard when you go to stand up, halfway across the ring, the human raising his arms in victory as the crowd screams. The idiot has his back turned to you.

You tackle him from behind and he goes sprawling. You revel in his hiss of pain as you shove his face against the concrete, bent over him. He's grining again, lips tinged red with blood bubbling over his barred teeth, and he watches you with one eye. This close you can see that it is, indeed, pink, the pupil the colour of chewed bubblegum frosted over with milky blue. He's a mutant too. You sneer at him.

"Sup, princess. Distracted by my beauty?"

You lift his head just enough to smash it back down and he laughs, spitting out blood. You've got him in the perfect position, face against the floor, ass in the air, and you're sorely tempted to grind against him. Maybe then he'll actually see what he's gotten himself into.

A sharp elbow against your ribs stops you in your tracks, and you half fall off him to press your palm against your already bruised ribs. Jesus Christ shitting fuck. Your opponent is on top of you before you're finished wheezing, pinning you to the floor by your throat.

Your throat, not your wrists. This loser has no fucking clue what he's doing.

You slam both fists into his stomach, knocking him back, and this time he's the one wheezing. You're on top of him again in seconds, straddling his thighs, one fist full of hair and the other gripping a scrawny, human elbow. He's panting, chest heaving under you, and he never breaks eye contact.

Then he bucks up into you, smirking in that horrifically know-it-all way you're coming to realize is his _thing_ , and you groan at the friction of bulge against bu-- holy shit.

"Jesus grub fucking _Christ_ , you're _actually_ getting off on this."

He chuckles, low and amused, "Y'got me there."

"Holy fuck, this is the wrongest thing."

He bucks up again, laughing at the way you moan, and says, "But'chu like it."

You punch him in his stupid face, dig your fingers into his hip as you grind down into him. He retaliates by dragging you closer, fingers dipping into your gills. You curse as you forcefully remove his hands from your tender sides, and he makes a face.

"Holy shit, that was the nastiest fucking thing I have ever experienced."

You spit out a vehement, "Fuck you," and hope that no one realizes your gills are actually _real_.

The two of you scrabble at each other like wrigglers, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning every time your junk touches his. Somehow, he manages to get on top of you again, rutting down against you constantly, even as you punch him in the ribs. You can _see_ the bruises blossoming on his flesh, his eye half swollen and fetid looking.

This is where the two of you would slink off and pail in private, except this is a moronic human you've got pinning you. You grab a fist full of his hair and drag his face towards yours. The way he groans, his eyes flickering up towards the back of his head, makes your bulge writhe in the confines of your jeans.

"I am going to fuck the shit out of you, human," you hiss, barring your teeth at him.

He presses his fingers against your gills again, pinching them closed but not actually penetrating. "Fuck that. You're not getting your freaky tenta-dick anywhere near my ass."

"Then I'll just jam it down your throat instead."

"Just you try."

He's dripping on you, blood and sweat, and you really need to figure out a way to get him off of you so you can drag him away and actually _get off_.

"You done yet?" you hiss at him. His answer is to snap his fist against your face and fuck, now _your_ nose is bleeding too, fucking gushing blood. Even your eyes are watering. "Son of a cock sucking Christ!"

He leans in and dips the tip of his tongue into the blood pooling at the corner of your mouth, and that is the nastiest, most fucked up black solicitation you have ever been involved in.

"Yeah," he breathes against your lips, "I suppose you could suck my cock."

You are 600% done with this fuck head. You shove his face back, fist catching the hollow of his throat, and he falls back, and more importantly, off, with wide eyes and a strangled choke. You haul him up and out of the ring by one of his arms, not even giving him time to get his feet under him. The crowd laughs, jeering at the no-nothing human and you're _so fucking hard_ with your triumph. The human is cursing behind you, spitting out the words as he stumbles along until you throw him into an empty corner, away from prying eyes. He slams into the wall with an attractive thump and you're on him again in seconds.

You mash your face against his, biting his lips hard enough to make him yelp and there's the taste of blood on your tongue. His body his hot against yours, hands squeezing your ass as they tug your hips against his, and you weigh the pros and cons of riding his dick here and now.

Pros : human bulges get harder than trolls and it'll hurt so good; you'll get off; and, you'll be able to punch him in his stupid face some more.

Cons : pants are difficult and you'll have to remove yours entirely.

He's cursing against your lips, desperate; "Shit, shit, shit, shit -- " and you pull away far enough to tell him to shut the fuck up. He doesn't.

"Dave," he gasps and you glare at him.

"You are so not using me to get off to someone else."

He snorts, and his mutant eyes focus on you. "Hardly. _I'm_ Dave."

You roll your eyes and shove him back a little harder into the wall. "We don't use _names_ , dumbfuck. This shit is _illegal_ , in case you haven't noticed."

"Heh, yeah, and peeps'll totally never be able to pick me, a pasty ass albino human who has _obviously_ had his shit wrecked, out of the crowd."

He has a point. You are basically in the same boat. You grind your nook down against his deliciously hard cock and hiss out, "Karkat. Now that the pleasantries are over with, take off your fucking pants."

"Kinda hard to do that when you're busy humping my lap."

"Oh _fuck you_."

"Yeah, that's the plan, isn't it?"

You have never met a human more infuriating. You drag yourself away long enough to shed your pants and allow _Dave_ to do the same.

"Man, the whole one leg in the pants thing, so totally chic."

"Shut the fuck up, _Dave_." You think his name is your new favourite curse. He laughs and you yank his hair, straddling his lap.

He grabs your hips and hauls your crotch towards his face before you can sink down on him. 

"Jesus Christ, hold up. D'you have any idea where I've _been_?"

"You're _diseased_ on top of being a sick freak?"

He glares at you and you're pretty sure your bulge is long enough to prod at his lips. You arch your hips forward enough to do so and he makes a face. You smear your genetic material across his mouth, but his teeth are clamped shut as he fumbles over your thighs at his pants.

"Wussing out?" you ask, sickeningly sweet.

"Hardly," he pulls his hands away from behind your back, holding up a glittering square of foil.

"Holy fuck, you really _are_ a sick fuck. Did you seriously come here looking to get laid?"

"Like you're one to talk."

"Oh, don't you _even_ , you deplorable excuse for a sentient being. You have no fucking idea how much it blows to crave a sort of relationship that society looks down on -- "

He cuts you off by grabbing your bulge and squeezing. "I'm dating a male troll and I get off on having the shit beat out of me in a society that looks down black relations and inter-species romance, on top of homosexuality and polyamory in humans. Calm your tits."

You groan, your body bowing over him. "Don't make me pity you, idiot."

He squeezes your bulge tighter, bordering on painful. "'M not. And for the record, there's nothing pitiable about you, so quit yer bitching and get on my dick."

"I'd break your nose for that if it wasn't already."

He grins at you with pink stained teeth. "'S not broken."

You punch him square in the face. His head snaps back and cracks against the pavement. He's a little cross eyed when he looks at you next, unfocused as you scoot back down and grab hold of his dick. It's already wrapped in latex and you grimace at the texture. He hisses when you sink down on him, thumbs stroking your hips.

"You are nothin' like Tav," he mumbles, watching you, eyes focused again.

"This is not, and will never _be_ lovingly talk about your matesprit while fucking Karkat hour."

He snorts. "You're a jackass."

"And you obviously don't get black romance."

He smirks, hips snapping up as his fingers migrate towards your gills again, and you have no idea how he got the leverage to make you moan like that. You fuck yourself on him, riding him like your life depends on it. It's rough and dirty and just the way you like it.

You punch him again just before you come, making a mess out of his chest and pants, and the way he licks his lips clear of blood as you do makes you shudder. He keeps thrusting into you even as you go boneless, wet squelching noises coming from where your bodies are connected. You let him, complacent in the afterglow of your orgasm. He hisses and clutches at your ribs, curling up to press his face against your shoulder as he comes and you moan at the feel of him twitching in you.

"Wow, Karkles. You're a pretty good lay," he pants, flopping back, just as boneless as you.

"Fuck you too, _Dave_."

"Heh. Just did."

"Really now. Was that what that was?"

"D'you want me to show you again?"

"Hardly. You couldn't fuck like a proper kismesis if you were school fed techniques for the rest of your life."

"Wanna bet?"

And that's how you end up in a proper black relationship.


End file.
